


Just you and me. And my jar of baby corn.

by calysto1395



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hawke being a human disaster, M/M, Magical Hacking, Plant Magic, Plants, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calysto1395/pseuds/calysto1395
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was actually a human disaster. Hawke was at peace with that fact, usually. After all, everyone knew this about him. He knew it, his family knew it, his friends knew it, even his mailman knew it. The garbage truck ladies had brought him lunch once after being concerned of the contents of his trash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just you and me. And my jar of baby corn.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mannelig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannelig/gifts).



> The amazing prompt was this: 
> 
> Modern Thedas(magic still a thing,etc. etc.). Hawke is a blogger with a flair for experimental magic-flavored hacking, which is, naturally, Highly Illegal. It's just a hobby. Really. And, okay, maybe Hawke shouldn't have snuck those dumb easter eggs into the code of famous author Varric Tethras's website while drunk - but seriously, that shit was ugly and really needed the glittery makeover.
> 
> Varric isn't sure how exactly there was actual glitter coming out of the screen when he visited his website, but considering the interesting shade of red his brother's face turned when it happened to him, he's inclined to like it. Still, he can't let something like that go.
> 
> So he writes a sarcastic blog post about it. And Hawke is many things, but capable of resisting a challenge is not one of them.

 

Hawke shot a gaze at his empty lyrium energy drink can and wondered if the idea to top it off with whiskey had been such a genius idea after all. Not only had it tasted disgusting, he also felt kind of floaty which was never a good sign. Especially not when he was sitting on a computer with the internet at the tips of his fingers. He scratched his beard, cracked his knuckles, chugged the last of his disgusting drink, and went on his social media of choice only to be greeted by yawning nothingness.

What the hell were his friends doing if not being up and about at three in the morning? Hawke leaned back and snapped his fingers at the screen. The magic came easily, jumping from his fingers into the machine. He pushed away from his seat while his newsfeed scrolled down, searching through the day's news for interesting things.

The empty can that he threw landed about a foot next to the trash bag he aimed at, right among its fellow brethren in an orchestra of clashing metal. His back screamed in protest when he stretched, each vertebra cracking individually as if they had just been waiting on cue. Aveline might had been onto something when she told him he needed to exercise more. But even Aveline couldn’t argue with THESE guns. He was flexing to himself before he realized how ridiculous he looked, and dropped his arms to his sides. Hawke pulled his collar to his nose and sniffed the fabric deciding a shower wouldn't hurt. He threw a look at his computer still scrolling away and decided that he wasn't going to sleep tonight anyway. It was shower time.

"Mysterious Author Varric Tethras announces new web series."

Hawke spun around fast enough that his feet tangled in his sweatpants and he went down crashing. Pulling the covers from his bed in a last attempt to save himself only resulted in the books covering it crashing down with him.

He let out a soft “Ow” as he pushed up from the floor, ignoring the books that had tried to perforate his spine. He leaped from his floor and onto his desk chair, slamming it into his desk. From the other room, the muffled clicking of his dog’s claws on the floor grew steadily louder until Crunchies poked its head into the door. Hawke gave it a thumbs up before swirling back to his computer. Crunchies huffed and let itself fall to the floor, falling asleep instantly. His dog was used to his antics by now.

The clickbait article read that, as mentioned in the title, anonymous author only known as Varric Tethras had announced a new ongoing web novel series that was going to hit his website tonight. Hawke loved that guy’s work, the cheesy romances and the trashy action flicks, he had read everything. His interest had only partially come from the whole incognito schtick of the author, who kept his face, and likely his real name secret. It gave every story something thrilling, as if maybe if you read carefully enough, you could unravel the secret.  

Hawke opened the link in the blink of an eye and closed the tab just as fast. It was hideous. Maker, how was a website in this day and age so hideous? He opened it again, this time more cautiously and with the actual mouse and braced for the impact.

The opening page was a ghost from the early 2000’s that had crawled out of its grave to punish them all for their sins. A simple image header that showed the cover art of the story, the aspect ratio all fucked up to make it fit on a dark red stock color background. Below was a short summary and hyperlinks to the chapters, all blacked out for now. Hawke was embarrassed just looking at it. They had used Times New Roman as font, who even did that anymore? Boring people, that’s who.

It seemed Hawke had to teach his favorite author a lesson or two.

He cracked his knuckles again, resisting the temptation to use more force when they didn’t crack quite as satisfactorily as he would like and got to work. His fingers flew over the keyboard, waving magic along as they rediscovered a mechanical symphony. The pulse of the electronics beat in unison with his heart, inviting him in and letting him roam free as he wished. Just a little mayhem, Hawke reminded himself. There was no fun in being arrested for this, Bethany would remind him if she were here. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself while he was at it though.

The glitter exploding from the screen was one of his favorites. It was harmless, short lived and not permanent, but still annoyed the hell out of people. It was the same shade of red as the background, to go with the theme and to distract people from exactly that. The perfect little tribute. He chuckled to himself, his exhaling breath was bits and bytes and his pulse electricity.

It was always difficult to pull himself out after he was done. Inside the machines everything was fast and slow, everything possible. A perfect world to shape as he pleased. But the perfect world inside in the world’s technological shadow sadly didn’t have anything that even tasted remotely like bacon, or felt like his dog’s fur.

It was always easy to pull himself out after he was done. Hawke left a parting gift in the code, the soundtrack to his favorite childhood cartoon that would play whenever someone visited the site, just not looped infinitely because he wasn’t a monster. His chair creaked softly when he leaned back, breathing the stale hot air of his apartment, his lips still pulled in a smile from the high. One last finishing touch, Hawke thought, and pressed his thumb to his lips before planting it square on his monitor. The surface swallowed his fingerprint with the soft waves of a lake before returning to its inanimate state. It was a simple seal to make his work more difficult to remove.

His computer had earned its rest. Hawke left it to its own devices in favor of falling into his bed, Crunchies jumping in close behind him.

He felt wonderful.

 

* * *

 

He felt awful. 

The next morning greeted Hawke a really weird hangover and the taste of death and dog hair in his mouth. At least the latter was nothing unusual. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, his phone told him it was already past noon and that he had several texts waiting for him. With much muttered complaining, Hawke clapped his hands and turned on his bedside lamp. He clawed for his phone that sat next to it, heaving it into the air above his head. His lock screen, a picture of Beth and Carver, disappeared with a blink and opened to his texts. The first one was from Merrill. She greeted him with a smiling picture of herself, covered in red glitter and holding her thumbs up. Underneath she had written ‘I adore it’ followed by a couple of flower emojis and a single knife one, as per usual for Merrill. He didn’t need to ask how she knew about his handiwork. With a smile, he answered her with a sparkle emoji.

With Merrill’s praise came a wave of productivity. He got up, forewent his computer for now in favor of some much needed grooming and a shower.  After cleaning his dishes and doing his laundry, Hawke even managed a healthy breakfast. Well, yogurt with fruit in it anyway. That counted as healthy right? By the time he finished the yogurt cup and put the next load of laundry in, it was already late afternoon, which was the downside of sleeping until twelve.

His phone buzzed before he could park his cute butt at its usual spot in front of the computer for the next five to ten hours.

‘Are you coming to dinner tonight.’ Aveline demanded in a text without asking. Her way of textspeak was incredibly subtle, but Hawke was a master after almost twenty years of study. With a question mark it would have been an innocent question and without the question mark, it meant that she was pissed at him and planned to chew him out over his last meal.

He replied with a ‘suuuuuure’ to let her know he was onto her and got dressed.

The way to Aveline’s apartment wasn’t very long, but Hawke insisted on taking the subway every time because the way to the station was even shorter. It wasn’t lazy, it was efficient. Especially now that Kirkwall officially had the season that pretended to be winter. It was still hilarious to see people don thick sweaters and coats during temperatures that would have qualified as spring back in Ferelden. However, seeing as Hawke had grown weak to the cold himself, he couldn’t laugh at them any longer. One of those days he might actually consider himself a Marcher.

With the debatable cold weather, the subway station was brimming when he descended into its depths. Perfect conditions. He took a playing card from the deck in his jacket pocket and held it up against the scanner of the gate. Among the crowd, nobody paid him any mind. The light in the scanner beeped red twice before it turned green and opened the gate to let him into the station. He slipped inside, dropped the card along the way and jumped into the first train. It was always better to be caught without any ticket at all than with a magical one. Possession of magical artifacts without a license was enough for at least two years if you got arrested by the wrong person. With no ticket, all you got was a fine.

Riding the subway surrounded by all the cables and delicate machinery controlled by computers felt a little bit like hacking inside one. Maybe that was why he liked it so much.

Technological magic was a rather new discipline among the many other and much older forms. Supposedly, it had descended from old primal lightning magic but that was a rarely researched subject thus far. It was widely regarded as super cool by anyone who was below forty and super lame by anyone above. They shouted security issues and questionable morals, while Hawke used it to turn his lights off when he was already comfortable in bed. And to dodge the fare for the subway. And to annoy people with terrible websites. But he wasn’t hurting anyone. Anymore. Now that he was rich, there was no reason to steal from anyone’s online banking accounts anymore. That had just been too easy not to do, he had been doing them a favor, really. In the first few years of online banking the defences against magical hacking had risen dramatically in no small part to people like him that exposed the flaws in the system. Companies paid people to do that, Hawke had simply shown initiative by doing it without being hired. With every new invention, new possibilities arose. As a child Hawke had used his very specific talent to rewind the VHS tape without getting up from the couch or cheat at video games against his brother, the invention of the home computer had almost literally blown his mind. Every year there was something new and exciting to discover and to pioneer, making a bit of fire pale in comparison. Especially if public inflammation could land you six to eight years of prison. His way was a lot more subtle.

His train pulled into Viscount’s Keep Station, two minutes earlier than they were supposed to, but who was about to complain about that?

Aveline’s place was only a few minutes walk away from the exit. Could Hawke even still call it just Aveline’s anymore now? She did live there with two guys she slept with and one she was married to. He was both proud and embarrassed to have a less interesting life than Ms Hall Monitor of the year 2001.

Boytoy number one, also known as Donnic, greeted him at the door and led him to the scaffold. Hawke liked Donnic, even without knowing much about him. Donnic was the kind of person that was just so nice it was impossible to hate them. Even if they had horrible sideburns. Fenris greeted him when they walked past the kitchen and followed them shortly after to the dining room, two bottles of wine in hand. No doubt Thedas’ finest, which Hawke wouldn’t be able to tell apart from the three copper plastic bottled wine from the gas station if his life depended on it.

He settled into his usual seat. “So, what did I do this time?” Hawke asked.

"You know exactly what you did.” Aveline appeared in the doorway like an imposing avatar of vengeance with her arms crossed, staring down at him. Donnic took that moment to get out of the dodge and head back to the kitchen.  
  
"I have no idea?" He said. Aveline grabbed him by the ear and held a printed out webpage to his face.  
  
"Don't play coy with me." She said, and Hawke tried to wrestle out of her grip and keep his ear at the same time. An impossible and fruitless endeavour that he gave up on pretty quickly. He squinted at the page. Donnic returned with a pot of food and a sheepish smile. Him and Fenris remained unfazed by the entire scene.  
  
"Why did you print that out, you have a phone." He said, and Aveline twisted his ear. "OW! Help me you traitors." Fenris and Donnic meanwhile only had pitying glances for him. Where were the good old days when they had also been his friends. Fenris at least. He was still going to enchant both their phones to blast the top ten folk songs over and over at them. With the revenge plan in mind, he surrendered to Aveline's wrath and examined the page that she pressed into his face.  
  
It was the comment section of Varric Tethras blog page, right underneath a new blog entry simply titled "Dear Hacker"  
  
Hawke grabbed the page from her and leaned in close to read the tiny script.  
  
"Dear Hacker,  
  
imagine my surprise logging onto my main homepage today and being assaulted by a hail of glitter that emerged from my screen. While annoying at first and hilarious second, I have concluded after trying to clean my keyboard for two hours that your joke lacked serious imagination. What yard sale CD did you get the terrible music from?  
  
Glitter is rather standard level isn't it? But not to worry I am nothing if not patient to see what you can come up with if you improve your abilities."  
  
Hawke felt his cheeks bursting with a smile, growing wider and wider with every line. Aveline groaned somewhere in the back of his mind as he went down to read the comments.  
  
B_Tethras wrote; you better fix this or I will  
  
PirateQueen wrote; nice one! I can never resist free glitter.  
  
cattastrophe wrote; I told you you needed better security  
  
Then the page reached its end. Hawke's fingers fumbled his smartphone out of his pockets before his eyes were finished reading the last comment only to have Aveline yank it away.  
  
"Oh no, this ends right here." She said and slammed his phone down, making him wince in sympathy. Electronics were delicate and Aveline should be aware of that after breaking her phone about every second month.  
  
"Please, I didn't do it. I was just going to add a nice comment of appreciation for the art." He lied easily. As always however, it slipped his mind that Aveline knew him just as long as he knew her and could see right through his bullshit. She lifted an unimpressed eyebrow before showing him another printed out page. Really, he thought he had her better trained than this. Printing paper, what year was this? It was a blurred print, hidden in lines of code, almost indistinguishable from the numbers and signs.

"Don't pretend to be innocent when you put your fingerprint on the spell. You’re lucky you aren't in the state system." She told him sternly, crossing her arms again, and this time it was Hawke’s turn to raise his eyebrow.

  
"How do you even know they’re mine if I’m not in the system?" He asked with his voice carefully low. With Fenris close by, Hawke tried to avoid shouting if possible. However, as he could already imagine Aveline’s answer, he wasn’t sure if he could manage that tonight.

  
"They aren't in theirs, but they are in mine." She said simply, as if it were nothing unusual. And people thought that Hawke was the weird one out of the two of them.

"You know I don't like it when you watch my every move." Hawke said, gritting his teeth. Every few weeks they had this argument after what happened to Bethany and every few weeks he thought they had finally moved past it.

As always when Aveline was passionate about something, she got angry. “I wouldn’t have to, if you stopped being a fool.”

“I know what I am doing, Aveline.” He explained carefully.

“Do you?” She asked and that was it. Hawke not going to put up with this tonight. He grabbed his phone from the desk before she could take it again and got up from his seat.

“Thanks for dinner.” He said instead of goodbye because he was petty. When the door fell shut nobody said anything else.

Outside seemed colder than before. The icy wind bit against the parts of his face that weren’t covered by beard or hair, and crawled into the creases of his jacket. He burrowed further inside it and headed to the station. The crowd hadn’t diminished in the slightest, and he slipped through security undetected again, pressing himself in between the bodies and managed to snag a seat on the train before some bratty teenage could. The cramped space forced him to sit pressed against the people at his sides, but Hawke paid them no mind. Instead he fished his phone out of his pocket, Aveline had send him a text ‘Get home safe’ and ‘Don’t do anything stupid’. He felt tempted to jump out of the subway train just to spite her.

“Trouble with the girlfriend?” A voice asked next to him. Hawke grumbled at his phone and debated whether or not he should send Aveline the enchanted dragon emoji that would make her phone vibrate and play Uptown Funk until the battery ran out. Then he remembered he valued his life and decided against it.

“Worse. With my best friend.” He said as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket before turning to his fellow passenger.

His incredibly dashing, unbelievable handsome fellow passenger. Thick blond hair down to his shoulders was held back by a loose ponytail. A rugged face with a crooked nose that spoke of danger, broken bones, and generally all the things Hawke found attractive. Muscular arms, straining the red silk shirt that was exposing the hairy chest in a manner that was just obscene in the best kind of way. Especially with the cold. Who showed that much cleavage in winter without trying to sell something?

Maker, Hawke was so gay. So incredibly gay. Well, bi technically, but that was all schematics.

“What’s wrong?” The handsome stranger asked and Hawke had to collect his jaw before he could continue their conversation. In one instant the frustration welled up in him again at the memory of the argument. It was an old one, they had it all the time. Just once he wished that they wouldn’t.

“She is just-” He held his hands up in the air, trying to grasp the words. When none came, he dropped them back to his lap. “She is the personification of a mother hen.”

The stranger smiled and closed the small notebook in his hands that Hawke only noticed now.  It was an impressive little book, bound in leather with enough notes and loose papers sticking out to make it look like a scrapbook. He cradled his large fingers around it like it was something precious and delicate.  “Ah, yes. Those friends.” Stranger said and Hawke had to remind himself to look away from his hands.

“I love her. I really do. You know, like a sister.” Hawke added quickly. “But I would love her even more if she realized I’m not five years old anymore and she doesn’t need to prevent me from touching the hot stove.” Or the highly illegal magical cyberspace that he called his playground. Same difference really.

“You like to get burned then?” The stranger asked with a smile that was definitely flirty. Oh, it was on.

Hawke put an arm over the back of their seats, crowding into the old man’s space on his other side. “Please, fire cannot harm a dragon.” He said, showing his perfect white teeth. It wasn’t vanity if it was true. Hawke knew from basic genetics that he wasn’t hard on the eyes either, after all, Carver was the ugly one. Of course, if someone asked Carver, he would say that Hawke was the ugly one, but that was how they showed their love.

“I am sure your friend means best. Sounds to me like it doesn’t matter if you care about getting hurt or not, she just doesn’t want to see you going up in flames.” Stranger said and Hawke’s knees felt weak. Who the fuck even talked like that? Handsome assholes with amazing eyes did. Combined with the rough voice it felt like pure molten gold was running down his spine.

“Maybe.” Hawke found himself saying. “That metaphor got a little away from us.”

Stranger hummed and put his elbow onto the back of the seats, brushing up against Hawke’s arm. “Really? I kind of like where this is going.” He said with a sly grin.

Hawke did not whimper.

All the people around them seemed to have disappeared for all they acknowledged their presence. Everything was boiling down to just the two of them and this weird encounter they shared. It was a magical moment if Hawke had ever had one. He hardly noticed the subway car slowing down in preparation for the next stop but the announcement of Hightown Square was loud enough to remind him. For once in his life, Hawke cursed the short ride. He let his fingers tap a rhythm against the plastic interior of the subway to slow its inevitable arrival.

“That’s my stop.” He said slowly and offered his hand. The one the stranger offered in return was warm and firm, a little calloused. Also bigger than Hawke’s own, which was another thing that Hawke was going to be thinking about for the rest of the day. “I’m Hawke.”

“Nice to meet you, Hawke.” Stranger caressed the words coming out of his mouth.

The screeching of the breaks started. “Not going to tell me your name?” Hawke asked, hopeful.

“Now that would be too easy, don’t you think.” Stranger told him and held onto his hand for longer than was necessary.  The subway car stopped but the doors stayed shut. Hawke remained in his seat as long as he dared. Staring into Stranger’s warm brown eyes it was an eternity in seconds. When people started to hit the glass panels on the doors in protest he jumped up and disappeared in the crowd with a wink.

 

* * *

 

Maker, he was so stupid.

Hawke fell against his closed door and slid down to the floor as Crunchies ran towards him. The dog’s tail was whipping back and forth with enough fervor to make its entire body shake. It jumped up and down next to him, licking against his face once, twice until Hawke finally scratched him behind his ears.

He trailed his hands through the soft fur, scattering hair everywhere with his mind still at the subway station. Why did he get off? The train. Why did he get off the train? He could have driven the entire length of the line and back without any issue. But that would have been creepy right? People didn’t just do that, unless they were in weird heterosexual romantic comedy movies. There was no way of knowing where Stranger had even come from, as Hightown Square was the main station of the city and every line went through there. You could literally get there from every blighted corner of all of Kirkwall and a little bit beyond. They were never going to see each other again. For a few precious minutes all trouble with Aveline had been forgotten, now that just reminded him that he was actually a human disaster. Hawke was at peace with that fact, usually, it was just a record low that he had somehow managed to cockblock himself. After all, everyone knew this about him. He knew it, his family knew it, his friends knew it, even his mailman knew it. The garbage truck ladies had brought him lunch once after being concerned of the contents of his trash. Really, it was fine. He had adjusted around himself. Then there were moments like this where he felt just like the concerning garbage.

Crunchies whimpered at him, nudging him with a cold nose to his ear. Hawke sighed and took his dog’s head in his hands.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He told the dog, who licked his nose in reply.

Hawke smiled. “You always know what to say.” He told Crunchies and got up from the floor.

After getting some snacks for both him and the dog, he sat into his usual spot by his computer. It started up while he and Crunchies munched on their baby corn straight from the jar. All the drama with Aveline and the bizarre romantic scene of the ride home had almost made him forget all about the reap of his sowings. He screwed the jar of baby corn shut before clicking the link to Varric Tethras website. The red glitter appeared gradually before swirling all around him, getting caught in every strand of hair and beard alike. His entire keyboard and desk were covered by the time the music faded in softly. Good thing that magic glitter disappeared on it’s own after a little while. Usually right after people gave up on the attempt to clean it all up.

He reread the text post, still in Times New Roman and then scrolled through the various comments. Most people were amused by his prank, few were a little annoyed but still commented positively on Tethras newest work and even less were downright furious and vulgar that Hawke saw no problem in deleting their comments. He hadn’t given himself admin rights for nothing after all. Said admin rights also helped in creating a popup chatbox for the post.

With an aubergine emoji as his icon, he asked: ‘Red not your color?’

Crunchies and him finished their dinner, namely the baby corn, while Hawke debated what else to do with himself. It was still early for him, dinner at Aveline’s had been his only plan today and there wasn’t really anything else to do. He could always call Merrill and talk with her for a while but today was the monthly repotting day. With the amount of plants she had around her home, it would keep her busy all day. Then there was Isabela, who was most likely at Merrill’s watching her wade through the dirt while sipping a cocktail.

It dawned on him that perhaps he had very weird friends.

His computer pinged at him to distract him from that observation.

He had gotten a reply.

‘Oh, I love the color, but the music isn’t quite to my liking.’

Hawke grinned. He had just been waiting for this.

‘Let me introduce you to a classic then.’ He replied and set the empty jar down next to him, saving the juice for later. It was time to queue up the soundtrack of the musical Blighted.

Hawke could admit later that this whole thing between him and an anonymous writer’s website had gotten a little out of hand right at that moment, when they reached day three. Especially after an online newspaper published an article about his shenanigans. He was in the middle of adding clip art with some power point transitions to the website when the popup chat window opened without warning.

‘Why do you keep doing this?’ Was the simple sentence written there. It was an excellent question, why did Hawke do it? It had been quick delivered justice at first, then it had been a challenge. Now? Now it was just fun. He hadn’t felt so productive doing absolutely nothing in a long time. But this new message struck a nerve. Was Tethras angry with him? Surely he would have taken precautions by now or asked him to stop if he was bothered. Right? That was what adults did in such a situation. Assuming that Tethras was even an adult. For all Hawke knew there could be a teenager hiding behind that name. Now there was an uncomfortable thought.

‘Your layout is terrible. I am trying to improve it.’ He wrote carefully. After a second he added ‘You should get a new graphics person’.

Hawke folded his hands in front of his face and waited. Had he crossed a line somewhere?  Usually he was more considerate, surely he would have noticed that before now. Well, he had definitely crossed the line of the law but who cared about that. Maybe Varric Tethras cared about that. That was ridiculous. What kind of person wrote about corrupt cops and cared about the law?

‘Fair enough.’ Came the simple reply shortly after.

What did that mean? That was the one thing online communication was no good at. How was Hawke expected to tell how it was meant? Maybe it was passive aggressive, maybe it was meant in good humor. Who could tell? Hawke sure as hell couldn’t.

This train of thought was getting him nowhere.

He sighed and closed the chat box to finish his clip art masterpiece, but when he refreshed the page and it's terrible layout disappeared to reveal a blank page that simply read ‘temporarily unavailable’.

“What?” He asked aloud, making Crunchies head peak up. His dog and him shared a look before he refreshed the page again, only to show him the same result. Surely it was his internet connection, despite being perfect for all years he had lived here. But even after the restarting the router the site remained blank.

Crunchies came up next to him, head pressing against his shoulder and Hawke put his head on his folded arms. His fingers started tapping a specific rhythm onto his laptop, without any effect. Hawke lifted his head from his arms again. The screen was still a blank page, even when he blew against it to refresh it. He buried his head back into his folded arms and grumbled into his beard. This hadn’t actually been what he wanted. If Varric actually got a decent website he couldn’t bother him about it anymore, that was against the rules. The disappointment hit him harder than he had imagined possible.

When the page remained blank after several hours of continuous refreshing, Hawke reached for his mobile phone and dropped his forehead on the edge of his desk. He scrolled with his fingers through his contact list, passing each one until he reached Vallen, Aveline.

He pressed call and held the phone to his ear.

“Are we done being mad at each other?” He asked as soon as she picked up. His voice sounded weird to his own ears as it vibrated through the wood of his desk and into his forehead.

Aveline sighed after several seconds, contemplating to fight it out or drop it. “Do you want to come over? I get off at five but Fenris should be home.” She said, deciding to drop it because she was an amazing person.

Hawke picked at a thread on his sweatpants.

“See you there.”

 

* * *

 

It would have been foolish not to hope to see his handsome stranger on the short way to Aveline’s but it was just as foolish to actually expect to see him. When reality ensued and the ride remained uneventful he was only mildly disappointed. Crunchies at least was a welcome presence, at his side and it kept other people away from him. Why Marchers were scared of his giant mabari, he would never understand.

“You look like a hobo.” Fenris greeted him when he opened the door. This was why Donnic was considered the nice one, even though he carried a gun and Fenris sewed clothing for a living.

“It’s called queer hobo and it’s an aesthetic.” Hawke replied automatically. He probably should have at least changed out of the sweatpants before leaving his apartment but he really didn’t care. As if Fenris was the one to talk, walking around barefoot and in one of Aveline’s shirts. Hawke recognized that shirt, there was no room for denial. Fenris snorted, rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let him into the apartment. Crunchies greeted him a little more enthusiastic than Hawke himself did, by nearly knocking him off his tiny feet.

Hawke made himself at home in the kitchen by letting the baking supplies he had brought spill onto the counter. It was a common ritual between Aveline and him. Whenever they had a fight, he would make her favorite apple pie and she would get take-out from his favorite place. The system was evidently flawed, as sometimes they had fights just for the prospect of free food but neither of them would ever admit it. He started mixing up the batter when Fenris joined him in the kitchen, preparing the oven and cutting the apples for him. Crunchies didn’t follow them, probably to curl up on his favorite spot on the couch before Aveline came home and shooed him away. Only when the dog appeared to be asleep did she refrain from doing so and his smart dog knew it.

“Is this still about the website thing?” Fenris asked while slicing the apples with intense concentration. It would have been scary how competent he was with knives if Hawke hadn’t known him for years. Every single one of his friends was terrifying in a different manner and Hawke had admitted years ago that he had a type.

“Yeah, I know you don’t care for it.” He said.

Fenris heaved a  breath as if this conversation was taking a lot out of him. Knowing Fenris, it probably did. “Just because I don’t care for it, doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.” Hawke had to restrain himself to going in for a hug while Fenris was still holding a knife. As soon as he put it down there was going to be 180 pounds of Ferelden muscle going in for an embrace.

“It’s kinda stupid.” He mumbled instead, focusing on his hands cracking up the eggs into a bowl. When Fenris didn’t dismiss him he continued. “The website is offline.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Fenris asked and put the sliced apples to the side for later.

“No. Not really. Don’t get me wrong, it was hideous. But changing something about it has kind of the highlight of my day recently.” Hawke told him and tried to ignore how pathetic he sounded. He really needed to get a hobby. Fenris hummed thoughtfully and put a cup of butter in the microwave for the the baking dish. This whole dance was already a routine.

Hawke paused and stared into the bowl of dough. “I feel like I’ve broken up with someone I didn’t even get to know.” He said finally, as the feelings swirling around in his chest started to form into a somewhat coherent thought. It was still ridiculous and yet it rang true, spoken aloud.

Fenris had no comforting words but his presence and silent support were enough. Together they got the pie into the oven just when Aveline returned with her husband and dinner. She didn’t shoo the dog off the couch when they settled down to eat, nor did she mention the topic of their argument again. Just like that, they were back to normal.

When Hawke arrived home some time after midnight, leaving Crunchies for a sleepover party with Aveline, he had planned on falling straight into bed.

Only that his phone pinged at him when he dropped his pants to the floor.  The alert that he had made for himself when there were changes to the website flashed at him from his lockscreen while he stood in the middle of his hallway with his pants around his ankles.

The website was back online.

He abandoned his pants where they had fallen and let his computer wake up before he had even made it to his bedroom. The machine struggled to keep up with his desire to boot up and open the website as quickly as possible, even when Hawke pushed its boundaries as much as he dared without frying it. When the browser finally opened the website, it had been worth all the wait. If the old website design had been a shitty orlesian mini van from 1992 then the new site was best compared to next year's high end sports car. The red color scheme had stayed but now it was embedded into html of this side of the century. The new sleek and elegant design was a bittersweet sight to Hawke’s eyes. He approved and finally felt no longer obligated to rain any sort of righteous fury down on this poor website. Which sucked royally the more he thought about it. Never in his life had a decent website offended him so much. Just when he was about to log off and go bury himself under his covers when he noticed the private post on the top of the page, invisible to anyone without admit access. What a coincidence. Almost as if someone had wanted him to see it.

The post opened with a flick of his wrist. It simply read: ‘Better now?’ Hawke’s chest soared. His fingers were twitching before he even set them down on the keyboard.

‘Much better. My poor eyes thank you’ He replied and was caught off guard when immediately another message popped up.

‘If you stop queueing up terrible music, my ears will thank _you._ ’ Hawke couldn’t help but laugh at that. There was perhaps a slight hysterical giggle to it but nobody was around to witness it. He felt giddy from every inch of his being.

It took him a minute to regain his composure enough to write back: ‘I feel obligated to let you know that you, sir, are a cretin.’

‘Says the person listening to Nightingale’s greatest hits.’

‘Excuse you, she is a gift to humanity.’

‘Good thing I am a dwarf then, you can keep her and her music.’

‘I hope you have nothing else to do because I am about to educate you.’

Hawke remained pantless until the morning.

 

* * *

 

“Is it creepy to go through the internet to find out someone’s phone number?” Hawke asked. Completely rhetorical of course. Aveline and Donnic froze from where they were folding their laundry by the couch table.

“Yes.” They replied and unison and Aveline added “Why do you even have to ask?” She managed to sound personally offended somehow.

He shrugged and tugged at his earlobe to stop the algorithm running on his phone. “Just checking. For a friend.” He said and Aveline muttered something that sounded like ‘Maker give me strength’ under her breath.

“Doesn’t that guy write trashy novels for a living?” Donnic asked, bewildered. It was a downright adorable look on him, especially while he was folding underwear. It was almost enough to make Hawke forget the sideburns. Almost.  

“I happen to like his trashy novels.” Hawke said, putting his hand on his chest to fake offence. Aveline clicked her tongue in tune with her shaking out the wrinkly clothes.

“He hides his identity. I don’t trust him.” She said with a scowl.

Hawke crooked his head. “You hardly trust anyone. It took you two years to tell me your birthday and we went to kindergarten together.” Aveline shrugged, unashamed. Donnic looked amused and smitten which was just more evidence towards Hawke’s ‘Donnic has been created just to fall in love with Aveline’ theory. She threw the perfectly folded T-shirt onto the pile without making it fall.

“What do you think he is going to do if he finds out your identity? He will have you arrested.” She said and Hawke had a deja-vu of his mother saying the exact same words to him.

 

* * *

 

When famous anonymous author Varric Tethras asked him for a video chat date, Hawke very definitively did not panic. He also didn’t seek aid from his most experienced friend and settled for the next best thing when Isabela didn’t answer his texts. Merrill always came through when he needed her most.

“What if he is actually a toddler?” Hawke wondered aloud from where he lounged on one of the lawnchairs Merrill used as furniture in her living room. At least furniture that wasn’t designated plant space. While Merrill was perfectly adept in many kinds of magic, technological included, she had always had more of an affinity for plants and earth magic. As old her her lineage and just as forgotten and dismissed. Hawke had never developed anything remotely close to something people referred to as a ‘green thumb’. Even with Merrill trying her mightiest, he killed even the most tenacious plants in existence crumbled at his fingers. Merrill cradled a pot in her hands before setting it down on a specific spot on her dinner table.

“You are just overthinking it, Hawke. I am sure it will be alright.” She said and picked up another plant pot. The leaves seemed to lean towards her, whispering a secret before she carried it out of her living room and put it down somewhere else.

“What if he doesn’t like my beard, Merrill. I don’t think I could live with that.” He shouted after her.

She came back into the room with a different plant that was set down next to the door where Hawke would no doubt trip over it when he left. Her tiny hands settled on his face and squished his cheeks.

“How could he not like the beard?” Merrill asked and stroked his face. “It’s so soft.”

“I know.” He said and threw his hands up, knocking against one of the plant pots. It toppled off the table and crashed onto the floor. He flinched when the ceramic shattered, Merrill didn’t. “Shit. I’m sorry.” She helped him scoop up the soil and the plant from the ground.

“It will not survive.” Merrill told him matter of factly. When she noticed his chest-fallen expression she corrected herself quickly. “Not because of you. It’s roots have been taken over my fungi and its doomed to perish. They are both in agreement.” She carried the plant to an empty pot in her corner and topped the earth off.

“I’m still sorry.” He told her. It wasn’t like he was intentionally trying to kill plants all the time.

Merrill smiled at him. “They appreciate it.” She said and settled back into her rearranging. Supposedly the plants were talking to her the way electronics talked to Hawke. Even knowing that he found it hard to imagine. Plants were living beings, it should make more sense to him than his phone updating him about today’s weather.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” He asked quietly and Merrill paused in the middle of turning a plant pot counterclockwise.

“Oh, Hawke.” She sighed and turned her back on her plants to hug him. He wasn’t even bothered by the soil raining down the back of his shirt.

 

* * *

 

Hawke was nervous when he let his computer start up that evening. He showered and groomed and ate an actual breakfast that day. Choosing an outfit had taken him the better part of three hours before Isabela finally caved in and told him to just wear whatever he felt most comfortable in that wasn’t his birthday suit. So sweatpants and a T-shirt it was.

He settled into his chair and wrote the code by hand for the first time in years.

The video feed waited on the black screen for Varric to accept the call.

The call connected and a strangers’ face greeted him.

 

“Hello, Hawke.”

 

“Hello, Stranger.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adored both ideas and wish I had had more time to do them the credit they deserved. 
> 
> I couldn't resist Modern AU and magical hacking like? That whole concept is so great. I hope you enjoy it because I had a lot of fun with the idea.


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